It’s not the scandal that does the damage, they say, but the cover-up. What happens if the cover-up is itself covered up? This is the question that the Church of England must face with the publication of an extraordinary report into the occasion, eight years ago, when it gave itself a pass mark on the issue of sexual abuse. A report then published, prompted by scandals earlier in the decade, was meant to measure the extent of historic sexual abuse known to the church. Instead it produced the frankly incredible claim that there were only 13 cases in 30 years that had not been dealt with properly.

Now that Peter Ball, a former bishop of Lewes and of Gloucester, has been convicted of indecent assault and been sentenced to 32 months in jail, while Lord Carey, who as archbishop of Canterbury attempted to rehabilitate him and suppressed some of the evidence against him, has been barred from working as a priest in retirement, it is time to review the church’s earlier self-examination. The Ball case is only the most visible of what is now obviously a considerable load of past cases. The archbishop of York, Dr John Sentamu, along with two of his bishops, has been formally reported to the police for alleged inaction over the case of one of their priests who was as a young man raped by an older priest.

So it is disappointing to see that the church has managed to produce another report that appears to argue that the original clean bill of health was the product of perfectly innocent misunderstandings. Sir Roger Singleton is a distinguished social worker and at the same time a charter member of the great and good. So his report is full of damning evidence of incompetence and obstruction within the original review, but it is written in a tone that suggests unflagging zeal hindered only by quite unforeseeable circumstances. It must be read with attention to the rotten steak and not the sizzle.

When the house of bishops first discussed the matter, in 2007, one bishop objected that “the real victims could include those clergy and church officials about whom unfounded allegations had been made”. On the other hand, something would have to be seen to be done: “It was noted … that a failure to proceed might be taken as evidence of a church culture which colluded with child abuse.” Perish the thought. In the event, those parts of the church that wanted to collude continued to do so. Seven bishops sent in no reports whatsoever: none are named in the report, although the church has since named their dioceses. All have now retired.

In keeping with this general aversion to reality, a decision was made early on to examine only files of cases, and not to talk to any survivors, on the grounds that to do so might be traumatic for them. None were asked if they would feel better for being ignored. The files were much easier to deal with, in part because they were haphazardly stored, in some cases in garages, and of varying age and completeness. Some records, says the report, referred merely to “an unfortunate saga” or “past difficulties”. “The state of many files does generate a risk that safeguarding concerns were not recognised as such,” writes Sir Roger in a magnificent understatement.

In the end, despite these hazards, nearly 50 lost cases were sent in for consideration from the diocese of Chichester alone (and there are 43 more dioceses). The compilers of the original report whittled these down to 13 for the whole country. It is difficult to understand how Sir Roger could be confident that there was no massaging of the figures.